What Was my Dream?
Through my school years and deep into college, I felt focused. I knew what I wanted to do, and I knew what it would take to get there. My dream wasn’t extravagant, but I knew that it was something that would make me happy. I also knew that while what I needed to do to achieve my dream would be difficult, I’d seen many before me give up. I wanted to get a degree in musical education and become a band instructor; I wanted to lead my band through competitions (both marching and concert) and bring them home with first-place trophies. I knew that the path of becoming a director would be treacherous and fraught with adversity.
I had no idea how difficult something like music school would be.
Music school in a university setting is different from the college experience most have. A professor once told me, “It’s not the hardest degree, but it might be the busiest.” In my first semester in music school, I took twenty hours of classes, while most of my friends took anywhere from fifteen to eighteen. Outside of regular coursework, you must also hone your skills with your principal instrument, which entails countless hours in the solitude of a practice room.
At the end and middle of each semester, a music student must also take “juries.” Juries likely vary from school to school, but for us, a student had to play scales, sightread, and perform a prepared piece for a panel of judges who give you a pass-fail grade (no pressure, right?). Students in music school are also either expected or required to participate in various ensembles that differ depending on their principal instrument. A student who plays trombone could find themselves in marching band/concert band (depending on the semester), low brass ensemble, trombone ensemble, and whatever else their school offers/requires.
Why Did I Give up?
I didn’t give up on my dream because I wasn’t good. I wasn’t good at first, but most entering music school are at the relative beginning of their journey with their instrument and ability. I practiced and slowly but surely got better. After walking off the stage of my first performance, another student patted me on the back and said, “Damn! I didn’t know you were that good! You sucked last time I heard you!”. That might sound harsh to an outsider, but in music school, your ego quickly drops among your peers, and you’re able to take their criticism as constructive instead of judgemental.
In my first conducting class, I stood in front of my peers; it was my moment. I’d waited, practiced, and put all of my efforts into being good enough to stand where I was standing. As I raised my hands in front of my solar plexus to command the ensemble’s attention, my hands began shaking violently. I was doing this for a grade, so I had no choice but to carry on, but as I conducted, my hands trembled through the entirety of the Star-Spangled Banner. Though my hands were vibrating, I didn’t miss a beat and conducted as close to perfect as a beginner could.
Throughout the semester, it became clear that my trembling hands weren’t going to go away. Partially due to nerves, but mostly because of something else, I had (and have) an essential tremor. An essential tremor is a neurological condition that causes you to shake. I kept taking classes, but I realized it would be my last semester of music school. My tremor made conducting incredibly difficult and was the most significant reason that I gave up on my dream of conducting.
How it Feels.
I went through multiple phases when I gave up on my dream of being a conductor.
At first, I felt an overarching sense of relief. Music school was incredibly difficult for me, and I was in a constant state of anxiety. To let all of the stress, juries, scales, piano classes, low brass classes, conducting, and ensembles go all at once felt like the weight of the world had lifted off of my shoulders. I felt lighter, and I had spare time to see friends outside of school, which I didn’t have before.
Not long after the honeymoon phase, I was stricken to realize that what I had been working for the majority of my life was dead. I was floating around in space, and I didn’t know what to do. I considered dropping out of college but decided not to. I considered and floated all sorts of different majors and career paths, but I couldn’t find anything. After being nudged towards marketing by a friend, I found myself in business school. It would be my savior - I could still utilize my creative potential and be employed.
How I Adapted.
Though the business school was no cakewalk and had its fair share of ups and downs, I worked my way through it. I eventually got my degree in business with an emphasis in marketing and a minor in entrepreneurship.
It took me a long time to realize my dream wasn’t who I am. I could have been the person I had been working towards in a different world, but giving up on it didn’t make me any lesser. I’ve found a deep love for what I do. I work with all sorts of people; I design, I still make music, I create, and I write! If I hadn’t given up on my dream, I would have never found the person I am today, which is ultimately a happier person.
Purpose
For many, they’re called to do specifically what they do and feel the need to pursue a dream, vocation, or goal to be the person they want to be. For me, I found that what I need more than anything else is purpose, not a vocation. The difference? You can find meaning in a multitude of disciplines. I felt the need to be creative, music was my outlet, but now I use my drive to be creative in different ways that fill me with purpose.
There’s no reason to continue doing something simply because it’s what you’ve always done. Don’t be a quitter, but realize when enough is enough and be able to stop. If you give up on your dream, as I did, you may be opening yourself up to finding a more profound purpose elsewhere that ultimately fulfills you more than your dream.
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